


Turne thou ghost that way

by middlemarch



Category: Wonder Woman (2017)
Genre: Angst, Dancing, F/M, Ficlet, Grief/Mourning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-23
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-11-18 02:28:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 268
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11281866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/middlemarch/pseuds/middlemarch
Summary: Waltz, rhumba, tango, hustle...





	Turne thou ghost that way

Diana grieved in nightclubs and discotheques, dancehalls and raves, the lights low or flashing, violet, chartreuse like the liqueur, reflected and muted and never the color of his eyes. She preferred the press of bodies around hers, pulling hers towards a humanity she could never have, but rhythm was enough. A drum, a bass plucked or hit, a synthesizer’s astral beat—it made them move and she moved with them, with it, electrons shivering. Her grace and power were rarely remarked upon and whether or not they’d drunk or smoked or kissed their way to intoxication, the other dancers were blind to how she was unlike them. She let men hold her because it was the form; her beauty was enough to ensure offers, her withdrawal sufficient to prevent questions. The music they played was nothing like Themyscira’s lutes and lyres, the Amazon chorus at dusk, and she needed it to be nothing like that so she could remember, not only his body next to his, but that doggedly striving spirit, the flexible mind, the curious patience that was waited until it could not any longer, that left with a blessing and not a promise _I love you_. Steve would not have known she would still be suffering, that she would be a Maenad among mortals, but he had not known her long as an Amazon, and even more briefly as a goddess. He had thought she was a woman who could forget, the way she had forgotten everything else when the snow fell around them, when he closed the door. He had not known she forgot nothing.

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from John Donne's poem "Expiration." It struck me that Diana would need to grieve and grieve differently from everyone else.


End file.
